


Inktober 2019 - Bait

by writinggiraffe



Series: Inktober 2019 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, I guess? that's kinda the vibe I was going for, Inktober 2019, M/M, Violence, ermmmm...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinggiraffe/pseuds/writinggiraffe
Summary: Low-key medieval AU. Keith is a man who lives a life of solitude, always on the run. Shiro is a man who has escaped from a life of slavery and fighting. The two meet in not so great circumstances.





	Inktober 2019 - Bait

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I know it's day 22 and I'm just finally posting day 3 but... I got so caught on this and I don't even know why. I don't even think I ended up writing it very well, but I just kept getting stuck on things. Maybe it's just because I could see potential in it, but there's really no backstory or anything in this piece. Maybe later? Who knows.

Keith carved the last notch in the wood and inspected it before sliding the knife back into its sheath. Night was falling and he needed to set the trap if he wanted to be able to see what he was doing and catch something to be prepared for breakfast the next day. He blew away any bits of shavings and sawdust from his hand and stood, grabbing his bow and arrows in case he came across something on the short walk to the area he had chosen. He made his way away from his camp, walking carefully over the exposed roots of the trees spread out overhead, branches almost blocking out the light from the sunset. It only took a few minutes to get there and a few minutes more to prepare the snare trap. He hoped it caught a rabbit this time instead of the meager bird he last had a few days ago. He'd had to spread out those rations quite thin.

He moved away with careful, practiced steps to not disturb anything and made his way back to his camp, putting out the fire and grabbing his pelt to curl under and fall asleep. The weather was getting colder. Soon he'd have to find an area with more shelter to stay the night. Caves or perhaps towns abandoned in the war. But for now this was what he needed to do to survive. While the weather was hospitable he needed to keep moving in order to stay hidden. When the temperatures dropped he could afford to stay in one place, taking advantage of the harsh conditions that fell over the land. He closed his eyes, banished his thoughts for now, and sank into darkness.

He woke before light fell through the trees, uncertain as to what had roused him. He lay in silence for a moment longer before sitting up, shrugging off his pelt and just listened. Keith couldn't hear anything, but he knew it had to be something. He quietly moved, his knife was already in its sheath, pressed against the small of his back, a comforting presence. Standing, he made his way quietly and stealthily through the woods, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark. He made his way back to his trap, listening for any sounds on the way. Just 20 yards away he stopped when he heard a small whimper of pain, not that of an animal, but of a person. But still, Keith did not approach. It could be bait to lure him out. He stayed where he was, considering slipping away and retrieving the rest of his items and leaving behind whoever it was that was caught in his trap. They wouldn't die, but it would take a bit of time and patience to work their foot and ankle loose from the wire.

Turning, he stopped when he heard a voice behind him, further than the trap, "Well, would you look at that. All that time running like a scared rabbit and now he's caught like one. What did we say, boy? No one escapes the arena."

There was a cry of pain and frustration, followed by laughter from others. "Would you look at that, he's still got some fight in him. A few days to heal up his ankle and we can just toss him back into the arena."

Keith's eyes narrowed. Galra. He knew exactly what arena they were talking about. It was a few days journey away. He was amazing the person had made it this far. He'd heard tales and horror stories about it, the way people from other kingdoms disappeared and were taken to fight for the enjoyment of the Galra people. Sometimes they would enslave their own, the weaker ones... the traitors. They'd make them fight too. And no one on the outside ever saw them again. Half of Keith wanted to leave, go grab his things and be on his way again. The other half wanted to stay, his hatred from those at the arena running deep in his veins. Before he knew it, the decision was made for him.

"If this trap is here, then someone is nearby. Perhaps we have another fighter we could get a few nights of entertainment from. Cut him loose and let's go find the other."

Keith couldn't afford followers, not even for a day. He slipped out his knife, grip tight as he kept it close and at the ready, slipping closer to get a look at who was there. Four in total. With the element of surprise he had a chance. His gaze flickered down to the man caught in his trap, leg up and blood dripping from where the wire cut into his ankle. The man had long hair, loose and tangled from lack of a brush, a strip of white running down the front strands. His right arm was unnatural, made of metal rather than flesh. Their eyes looked up and Keith's breath caught in his throat at the piercing gaze. He knew the man couldn't see him, but it was like he was looking right through him.

He swallowed and made his move. Years of training and honing his skills made him quick and deadly. The first man was dead before the others even knew he was next to them, knife through his neck, easiest area to just slice through to get the blade back with minimal trouble. There was a small shout of surprise as he went for the next man, slicing across his hand as they started to draw their blade. He heard the cut fingers fall to the ground below as the man screamed in pain. Keith plunged his dagger into his throat to silence him, unsure if there were others nearby. Two down, two to go. The surprise was gone, he had to make his next moves count if he wanted this to be over with as soon as possible.

The third man swung his sword and he ducked, kicking out and striking the man on the knee. He crumpled to the ground and Keith swung his blade down, aiming for the neck again but the fourth man grabbed him and Keith felt the blood between his fingers as the blade sunk into the man's shoulder instead. He couldn't get the leverage to pull it back out as he was put into a chokehold, the knife slipping from his grasp as he was pulled back. Keith knew he was shorter than average, he often used that to his advantage against bigger opponents, using their height and added weight against them. But now he was on the other end, hoisted back into the air as the arm around his neck squeezed, cutting off his air. The tips of his shoes barely touched the ground and he weakly scratched at the arm holding him as his vision grew spotty.

"Fuck, he's a feisty one, ain't he?" He heard the man he'd stabbed groan, followed by the sound of the blade being pulled from his shoulder. Keith gave a low wheeze as he tried to take in a breath, nails digging weakly at the leather vambrace. The man came over to him, using the bloody knife to brush back some of his loose hair, "He'd be a spark in the arena, don't you think?"

"I think he'd be great. Don't you agree Champion?" The two men laughed between themselves. Just as Keith was about to slip unconscious, he was thrown to the ground and had just barely sucked in a breath when he felt a knee pressing down on his back, wrenching back his arms and starting to tie his wrists behind him. He blinked, sight swimming back to him and found himself looking at the man caught in his trap. He was surprised to find a look of fury on his face, directed up at the two men who were no longer paying attention to him as they talking about their new prize. The man's eyes seemed to be glowing a slight purple and as Keith watched, he noticed the joints of the metal arm were the same hue. The man had been tired, fatigued, but in that moment he had the look of a cornered animal.

He striked before Keith even registered his movement, dragging the man on his back down by his hair with the metal hand, slamming his face against the ground with enough force that Keith heard his nose cracking, then he pressed down on the skull before it gave with a sickening noise and the man fell still. The man Keith had stabbed swore and quickly moved back, out of the other man's reach. Keith could see that the wire was digging in deeper, blood dripping steadily to the ground. Keith pulled his hands free from the half tied rope and got up, facing the last man of the group. He had to move quickly, the man already swinging for him. He dodged and punched him in his stab wound. Keith winced when the man screamed in pain, still not sure if there were others in the area.

He swung around him, kicking him to the back of the knee to bring him down before he quickly snapped his neck and let his body drop to the ground. As silence fell over the area, Keith struggled to gather his breath again. He let his eyes close, listening to the forest for a moment, trying to hear any footsteps, any branches snapping. 

"It was just the four."

His eyes opened again, looking over at the man still caught in his trap. His voice was rough and gravelly, most likely from lack of use. The purple glare to his eyes and arm were gone, leaving just the exhausted man behind. He was only wearing a single layer of clothes and he wondered how he'd gone through the last few nights without any protection from the cold. Right now without his furs and the adrenaline leaving his body he couldn't help but shiver in the chill. Keith moved, going and grabbing his knife, slipping it back into its sheath before going over to the man.

"Don't move." It was the only warning he gave him before he hoisted up his leg and loosened the wire loop enough to slip it off and let his leg drop back down. Keith sighed, letting the sprung trap drop to the ground. No prey would come to it now with the stench of blood so thick in the air. He would have to go hunting in the morning and hope he came across something to make for breakfast instead. He turned back toward the man, watching him cradle his leg up against his chest, looking at the gash on his ankle. Wandering around, he gathered a knife that one of the men had been carrying, bringing it back to the man and crouching down in front of him to place it down onto the dirt between them, offering the blade to him. The man hesitated before pulling it toward himself, slipping the knife between his belt.

"You should have killed them when you had your strength. Now you're tired and wounded. You're weak. What if they sent another party after the first?" He looked up to see the other man's brow furrowed in pain and frustration. Keith sighed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Recuperate for a few days. You can stay with me, but once your ankle is healed we go our separate ways. I can't allow myself to be dragged down and captured because of someone else's mistakes." He stood, offering a hand and after a moment of hesitation the man reached out with his metal hand and took ahold of him, using his support to rise to his feet. Keith was surprised to feel warmth against his palm like the arm was still made of flesh and bone. The articulation of the limb was also impressive, but Keith wasn't the type of person to make inquiries to a stranger they just met in the woods.

He put the man's arm over his shoulders as he supported him, leading him steadily back to his camp in the darkness, careful not to let him trip over any roots on the short walk. By the time they got back the other man was shivering and he set him down gently by the cold, extinguished fire pit. He lit it again just to get some light to look at the cut, getting out his meager first aid kit to clean and wrap it as best he could. The other man was quiet as he sat there except for the noises of pain that came out of him. He was practically sitting in the fire, trying to gain as much warmth from it as he could. Once Keith finished he sat back with a sigh and started packing up the bandagings.

"Shiro." Keith looked up at the voice, the other man looking at him. "My name is Shiro. Thank you for this. It's... nice to know there are still nice people in the world."

"Keith." Was all he said in reply, moving to smother out the fire. He heard Shiro give a noise of disappointment as the warmth left the air around them. "We need to get some rest if we must prepare for a possible second attack in the coming days." He handed one of his furs to Shiro before wrapping the other around himself as best he could. It did not keep back the cold as much as sleeping with the two of them had done, but it would do. He leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes. Keith listened to the shuffling of Shiro moving to get comfortable when he suddenly felt the man lean up to the tree next to him, their sides pressed together.

"We'll be warmer huddled together," he offered as an excuse before closing his own eyes. He fell asleep quickly, most likely exhausted from evading capture. Keith glanced over, looking at the man resting next to him, the scarce moonlight falling through the branches illuminating enough of his face to be seen in the night. Keith swallowed, brow furrowed, before looking away and closing his eyes again, letting sleep take him under.


End file.
